The Hunters & The Hunted
25th Day of Ojo Didi in the Fourth Month of Snow’s Fall
4380 A.G.G. (253 Years Ago)
The Township of Euuil Village, North of the Great Desert
The Continent of Alphava
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Samahdemn
Please note my sarcasm as I use the word “library” when describing the building at which we met our friend. It’s a term loosely implemented indeed. Don’t get me wrong. It was a charming enough space in the grand scheme. Warm and inviting as such atmospheres go. But it was very small insofar as my big city sensibilities were concerned.
There were a few sporadic couches for people to quietly read on, under the light pouring in through large windows during the day, or that of small oil lamps and tiny fireplaces during the night. A little java and pastry kiosk was snuggled in a far corner, filling the building with the smells of coffee, sweet breads and cakes, mixing with that of old woods, paper and fresh varnish. Which made the space about as accommodating as the town’s resources would allow. (Their coffees and cakes, of course, were not nearly as good as the ones I’d picked up from the out-of-town delicatessen earlier, but so it goes.)
Several computers were there however, to their credit. Nearly top-of-the line to boot. Well, top-of-the-line by non-Swalii standards, that is. Their obtuse monochromatic screens displaying all the information that their hulking processors could slowly produce; showcasing it in varying shades of green. They were connected only to each other and the library database in the basement via bulky modems and wires, and were limited only to whatever information was locally stored therein. Which the denizens accessed with the use of analog dials and oversized typewriter-esque keyboards.
It was a shame that the Temple stood so fiercely opposed to technological progress and that so many of Mundus’ governments followed suit, ensuring that most first-world civilizations were never allowed the ability to experiment with the digital architecture and hardware that could have formed the foundation of a true world-wide interspace.
Regardless, as I looked about myself at the heavy physical keyboards and the thick invasive monitors, I couldn’t help but think of how…appealing it all still seemed to be to my sensibilities. Something about it felt almost nostalgic, even though it had no real reason to be.
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On the Subject of Swalii Technology and the Greater World
My people’s technological progress, as is widely known, was unprecedented during the Technological Revolution. And while this may be for the most part common knowledge, the truth of its extensiveness is usually brushed off in today’s world as the musings of fiction writers; flights of fantasy.
Many only know about, or remember, our holographic projection tech when the Swalii Empire is brought up. Understandable as it was so prevalent in our society. Or they more oft think of our Amalgamates. But it goes far deeper than that. It’s like defining the magickal reach of a Magi by solely referring to our ability to hurl principals as projectiles; it’s a gross understatement.
Sanitation, construction, transportation, food growing and processing, information conveyance, genetic research, medical innovations; Hesijua was very nearly another world separate from the rest of Mundus before it fell to the havoc wreaked upon it during the Dįvonësë War. Even when comparing to the dwarves or the Assamians of old who were both scientifically accomplished in their own rights.
From the technological marvels which are our Amalgamate companions, to the plasma conducting weapons of Knights such as myself, we were wholly unique. Believe it or not, we were even exploring the possibility of leaving Mundus and visiting the Great Expanse one day. Maybe even to the extent of touching and exploring the lands of Audaux herself.
We had very little in the vein of government oversight or religious regulations to constrain scientific research. No hang ups. No red tape. Knowledge was our only drive. The perfection of our bodies and our lives was our only goal. The fruits of such headlong labor being a thriving economy, greater social interaction, expanded lifespans and a powerful gene pool. Things that most other cultures, in their close-mindedness, would never truly know, understand or obtain. But things that they always pray for nonetheless.
The world has always been very wary of our technological prowess. Too much advancement too fast. Many thought to lump all Swalii in the same wagon of mistrust which they placed the Magi. Much like with the Magisterium’s heka, the masses felt we Hesijuans were using technology to impose our will over the Goddess and God’s. To do things that should be Theirs and Theirs alone to do.
Then came the Ten and Five Year Wars, after which we were all but villainized. A fear which led to the Reversion, spurred by the Oratory, which outlawed all sufficiently advanced technology by so-called “Dįvįnë mandate” across all the world where they had significant enough influence.
And even though we fought to continue to express our individuality within our own boarders, much like the Magisterium did within the Link, we were constantly drawing attention on the world stage to our detriment. And the world took every opportunity available to vilify our ways of life.
The dwarves had a much easier time through all of this. The Reversion didn’t hit them as hard. Mostly because living largely underground they were more “out of sight, out of mind” than we were. It also helped that they largely weren’t followers of the Temple and they possessed armies strong enough to repel any forceful attempts by the Oratory to “convert” their people.
Additionally, many of their technological advancements outside of excavation and architecture concentrated on harnessing thermal and hydrodynamic power to drive their underground societies. And many surface dwellers chose to look upon this as a not-so-distant cousin to the steam mechanics that inevitably ended up largely powering the rest of the world.
This, of course, couldn’t possibly be further from the truth scientifically, but people will always see what they want to see. And if turning a blind eye where able allowed them to benefit from this tech in some fashion within the bounds of religious law, all the better. It also didn’t hurt that the mineral wealth that the dwarves, which was pulled from the deepest parts of Mundus with unmatched skill, made their nation one of the most valuable and important in history. Add to that the fact that they were instrumental in devising the first means for different monies to intermingle, which has evolved into the currency exchange that we now know, and you’ve a nation that has a rock solid foundation within the structure of all other societies that none wanted to shake. Completely immoveable. No puns intended.
If I’ve learned anything over my long life, it’s that if there’s anything that drives people more than the combined hatred of all things different, it’s the allure of copious amounts of wealth.
Bearing these things in mind, even with the state of things being what they were religiously and otherwise, many of Hesijua’s lower-end technological exports were still highly sought after by the masses. In the same way that there were always a great number of Magi utilized to continually operate the conveyance nexuses which the populace at large refused to make due without; and to work their weaves as they could within the medical field. Indeed Swalii knowhow also became nearly invaluable to the continual functionality of the world’s ever growing steam based technologies. Facts often overlooked despite peoples dislike of our ways.
People embracing what they want to embrace and ignoring wat they want to ignore.
Hypocrites.
Despite all of this, we never stopped attempting to reach out to other countries. We were never selfish with our knowledge. On the contrary, we wished advancement for the good of all.
We wished for the Reversion to be forgotten.
We wished for people to stop fearing us.
We wished to rebuild the metaphorical bridges we once burned with our estranged cousins and for our Dwalli brothers and sisters to the south to rejoin us that we could be a single people again.
We wished a lot of things.
Sadly, personal and religious beliefs can be strong motivators…or demotivators. And while the doors of diplomacy and mutual sharing of knowledge were always open on our end, they were rarely walked through by others because of those beliefs.
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Every building in Euuil Village felt homy and cozy to me. Yet, even in that, the title “village” was a bit of a misnomer. Euuil was more of a small town. It wasn’t very large, but still larger than the name would imply; just over five thousand people.
It wasn’t large enough to have any imports or exports. No important or noteworthy tourism. No shopping or dining experiences of any renown. And in truth, if it were not one of the last bastions of civilization along the Great Desert’s northern boarder, it probably wouldn’t even merit a visit or a mention on the map.
But, all of that said, it did at least have a dedicated Magi conveyance nexus for reasons that remain an utter mystery to me. An honor usually reserved for much larger towns, cities and holdfasts…and I suppose that counted for something.
And where I was only gently drawn to this semi-rural town, Waimund, on the other hand, ended up loving it despite his initial trepidations over what should have been its oppressive heat. I’d imagine that it had something to do with what he referred to as “the fresh air” or the “wholesome people”.
But I digress.
It had been an unseasonably cold year in Alphava. Euuil, which normally is very rarely, if ever, associated with snow, found itself buried under several inches of it shortly before the months of Snow’s Fall. And it continued to fall well into Life’s Warmth. To see the town concealed in white like it was, you’d scarcely believe that it was a scant two hundred or so miles from the deserts which lay to the south. I doubt, in point-of-fact, that the town would’ve been able to function if not for aid sent from cities as far north as Nuoin; to whom regular snows were commonplace.
Strangely foreboding in retrospect.
Jeruian, Waimund and I had been taking shifts for about a week in the village’s archives cross referencing unresolved crimes from as far east as Hengorn, searching for our pray; randomly questioning suspected associates from all over the village when we weren’t either researching, sleeping or eating.
I must say, I didn’t like it one bit. The situation. It was bad to go in as hot as we were. Blind almost.
Hunting in small, close knit towns was always a risky proposition. I thought we’d been pressing people too hard; making our presence far too known. The longer we stayed in town and the harder we probed, the more we risked our quarry realizing that we were hunting her.
I suppose the promise of all of that coin got the better of us.
Waimund had actually begun to believe that we were in the wrong place all together since we’d been coming up dry ever since we hit town. It wasn’t often that people tended to be so tight lipped about their criminal acquaintances when confronted with the real possibility of incarceration. There’s little honor among thieves, after all. Sure, I’d managed to turn Jannett, but besides her, few and far between were the ones who’d so much as even admit that they knew Katelyn, let alone confess to having any dealings with her. Fear seemed to surround this woman like a cloak.
But all of that was about to change.
Once Jeruian came close enough to me, a small stack of paperwork in one hand, I switched off the engine; removing the black-market umbilicals from my arm plugs. Without the power supplied by my Amalgamate, the holographic displays and readouts I’d installed surrounding the cockpit faded into nonexistence. Leaving naught behind but the wooden accent panels, analog gauges and the two CRT screens the vehicle was constructed with. Followed soon thereafter by the polarized tint of my rolled up windows.
I stood from the auto-mobile amidst the miasma the contraption belched from its exhaust pipes and from underneath its four forward wheel housings as the car’s frame settled to the ground with the loss of pressure from the air suspension.
That’s when I noticed the tired look in Jeruian’s brown eyes.
The weariness was painfully obvious, even through the lenses of his thinly framed glasses which reflected the snowy town about him. Exhaustion weighed down on his thin body as he moved towards me. But as tired as he was, I could also see that beneath all that was a smile that practically screamed “I found something!”.
“You look tired.” he greeted me.
“Well, if that’s not the pot calling the kettle, I’m not sure what is.”
“I’ve been hard at work all night Sam. Staring at microfiche and eating chocolate covered coffee beans until I got a headache. What’s your excuse?”
I shrugged. “If I were to be me, I’d say that I was hard at work last night too. On Jannett.”
My friend rolled his eyes with an exasperated sigh.
“But if I’m being honest,” I continued, “I was thinking about…You-Know-Who.”
Jeruian shook his head and threw up his arms in amazement. “It’s been, what, five years? Goddess! I’ve never known you, or anybody else for that matter, to be so hung up on a woman that they’ve never actually had a relationship with.”
“True. But what can I say? It’s, complicated.” I ended up half-whispering to myself.
“I shudder to think how lost you’d be over her if you’d actually shared anything with her. They say intimacy with elf-kind isn’t like intimacy with any other race. Heka is innate with them. They say you can taste it.”
“Also true…so I hear.”
“And with the way you…’remember’ things sometimes, it would likely be near impossible for you to ever fully move on from a relationship like that.”
“Likely so.” I agreed with a false smile.
He sighed again and leaned in close to me. “Look Sam, I’ll admit that she was something. It was hard not to like her. She had a way about herself, and I’d be lying if I said that she didn’t leave an impression. But the way you’ve been bemoaning leaving Tuska? I tell you, there’s a story here that you’re not telling us. You’ll have to tell me about it one day.”
I searched his eyes. I know he only wanted to help; that it was just curiosity. He was my friend and he was good people, but I’d made a promise. And it was a promise that was very close to my heart. A promise that I couldn’t break regardless of how harmless the consequences.
“No. I don’t.”
Waimund, in the meantime, had parked across the cobblestone street; his air breaks hissing loudly as he stopped, blowing soft snow away from his bike’s base. Thick white exhaust wafted about his dark skinned frame from the cycle’s many pipes as he got off of the three-wheeled steam conveyance and removed his helmet. And I remember inwardly smirking as I took in his sixty and nine inch framework. His lack of a neck being always amusing to me as it seemed that the prolongation had vanished quite some time ago due to long years of fervent weightlifting.
Where does he find the time to exercise, practice his shooting and still do his job?
Dressed in a thick protective biker’s coat covered in the patches of his Cycle Lodge, reinforced jeans and heavy boots, he looked not unlike the stereotypical CL member that he was. And his bald head and thick beard did little to assuage any latent fear that outward image may have aroused in those about him.
Not that he would have had it any other way, I think.
He started talking as soon as his stalky frame began to move towards us.
“I assume he told you about his fucking wet dream over You-Know-Who?” he said on approach with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer; apparently noticing the look on Jeruian’s face and the way we almost seemed to be whispering secrets to each other with how close we stood to one another.
“Yeah. We were just talking about it. You too?”
“Yep. He was looking like someone had kicked his puppy when we met up.” He focused on me. “I swear to every Ångël and Drågon in the pantheon, you have a piece of ass in your bed right now giving you everything a man should need, and the only thing that’s doing it for you are thoughts of a woman that you never even slept with. Fucking baffling!”
“She doesn’t give me everything I need Ray. She can’t.” I responded.
He threw up his hands in immediate defeat; not unlike J had. This was a road very well worn for we three. “Sure. If you say so. I’ll take your word for it. I’d rather not get bogged down in it today any more than we already have.”
“On a brighter note, I think I have something actionable for us to bite into.”
“Don’t do that shit J.” Waimund begged. “Don’t come out here to greet us with news of some possible lead that you’ve found to some supposed person who may have heard Katelyn’s name from a friend of a friend of a fucking friend, but has never seen her personally.” His dark hands waved about in front of him as he shook his square shaped head vigorously from side to side. “I don’t think I could take another fucking wild goose chase.”
Waimund – he had the hands of a sniper…and the mouth of a sailor. Probably because he used to be one.
Pushing the glasses up onto the bridge of his nose in an overly sophisticated manner with an almond coloured hand, Jeruian simply said “That’s not very nice of you.”
Jeruian was a fashionista in every sense of the word. His clothing and appearance were always impeccable; as if he were constantly ready to make a first impression with a beautiful woman who would be showing up any moment now. Today, he wore a very smart, dark coloured tweed coat over a stylish sweater and dark jeans which were well ironed and creased. His hands were manicured, his short cropped mane was cleanly lined and his facial hair seemed almost professionally kempt. He stayed well groomed, even when performing the most mundane of tasks and he constantly moved with the deliberate intent of a man who was always posing for the preverbal camera.
“There’s nothing wrong with my work.” Jeruian continued. “It’s not my fault that nobody wants to talk about this woman. I mean, an Askew isn’t someone who’s commonly or hastily double crossed. Who really wants to stare down that type of undefined anger if it comes to light that they’re ratting them out?”
I shrugged. “He’s got a point Ray.”
Waimund replied to my comment with the ever suggestive middle finger.
Waimund’s name was constantly butchered by those who didn’t know him well or who failed to pay attention to the pronunciation. He was oft referred to as Raymond by such people far more than he would’ve liked. This common slip of the tongue led to the purposefully mispronounced nick name, Ray, by us.
He hated it. And that aggravation served to tickle us just that much more.
“Besides,” Jeruian pointed out, “Don’t act like a lot of this ‘goose chasing’ wasn’t because of you.”
Waimund rolled his brown eyes about in his skull with an air of “oh here we go again”.
“From pulling and cross referencing one of the single largest sets of vox records I’ve ever seen, I might add.” J continued. “This was a whole lot of work spurred on because of the audiovox that you decided to bug at that woman’s house a week ago.”
“Are you just going to keep bringing this up? Over and over and over a fucking-”
“What was her name? Ablergreen…Alberdine…?”
“Albiqué.” I answered.
Waimund unintentionally laughed at the mention of her name; his breath escaping in puffs of vapor in the cold air.
“Yeah, it’s funny now, but it probably won’t be later if she ever decides to go to the lawmen and press assault charges.” Jeruian insisted.
“She wouldn’t fucking dare. What would she say that wouldn’t possibly end up with light being shed on her own shifty ass dealings? Her hands are tied. Besides, it was self-defense. All I did was question that bullshit story of hers. We all knew that Katelyn Claire’s money was being funneled through her. Besides, she was the one who attacked me.”
“Not quite how I remember it.” Jeruian corrected. “As I recall, you provoked her. I believe the words you used were ‘cum guzzling whore’.”
“Yeah. After she made a bunch of veiled and convoluted threats; thinking that we should back down from her like a group of bitches just because she ‘knew people’.”
“Did you or did you not toss her coffee table?”
“Whatever.” Waimund defended in his deep voice. “It was a long day and I wasn’t in the fucking mood. The point is that she came at me.”
The nonchalant way in which Waimund made the statement brought to my mind a picture of Albiqué running at him angrily, and the way the woman’s body fell limply to the ground after he sidestepped her charge and put his weight behind a heavy right hook that connected with her ear.
It was the oddest knockout I’d ever seen. And the dark comedy of it nearly brought humor induced tears to my eyes.
I swallowed the laughter which threatened to spew abruptly from me; very nearly choking on it. “But did you have to hit her so hard?” I asked from behind a barely contained straight face.
“It was a fucking reflex! You come at me like a man, and I’ll put you down like one. What do you want from me?”
I could no longer help it. Laughter ensued. Jeruian wasn’t nearly as amused. And Waimund wasn’t amused at all.
“Well, after you tagged her audiovox while she slept off your assault,” J continued, “I spent more time than I care to admit following up on all of her non-conclusive conversations and cross referencing all the numbers she’s called in the last few months…leading to our last three false leads. But, I’m pretty sure that now, all this has finally borne tangible fruit.
“Which leads me to the target we have now. Do you know how much of a headache it was for me to pull all this information? How much money it cost?”
“Any reason you’re saying all of this as if we’ve never done a day of research in our lives?” Ray asked.
“Because I need you to realize how amazing I am for tracking this lead solo and why it’s no wonder that I hate working over audiovoxes.”
“I’m still of the mind that a subpoena would have served us better. It could’ve saved us time and money.”
Jeruian shook his head dismissively at my suggestion. “I told you already, too much of a paper trail. I don’t know how connected Ms. Claire is, but she’s apparently connected enough to have eluded capture for goodness only knows how long. Even with the mountain of coin she has hanging over her head. Somebody’s feeding her information. Has to be.”
I still thought it would have been worth the risk, but there was an air of truth to that. Besides, I didn’t make a habit of questioning hard won intel the way Ray did.
As a Knight of the Order, I’d hunted many groups, and I’d killed in defense of my countrymen’s future. Or, at least, I’d been told it was for their future. Yet I never had to concern myself with any of the leg work. There were guilds within the Hesijuan government who supplied our spymasters with all of the information that we needed for our jobs. And our spies, in turn, did their own follow up on every stitch of intelligence they received. Due diligence. Histories were researched, connections were investigated and targets were tracked. All of my fellows of the Way of the Sword really had to do was execute the injunctions. We were simply the tip of a very complicated spear.
I nodded at Jeruian. “I trust it. If you think that fourth time’s the charm, then I’ll back you. Besides, what better do we have?”
Waimund, seemingly accepting both the new information and being all too happy to move past J’s harping concerning both of their roles in acquiring it, blinked his black eyes with expectancy. “So, what’s the name then? Don’t have us standing in the snow all fucking morning.”
“Nanci Further. Roughly thirty and two years of age. Here’s the write-ups.” Jeruian handed each of us a small stack of papers in manila envelopes on the girl which contained addresses, personal information, frequented spots and what looked like a grouping of surveillance photos of the subject crossing a small intersection.
“Where‘d you get the snapshots?” Waimund asked.
“Did I mention that this cost us a lot of coin?”
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
“Shit.” Waimund exclaimed. “The price that we’re picking up for this job had better be as advertised or someone’s going to die. Painfully.”
He was kidding, of course. But there was some dangerous truth in his jest. We’d poured a lot more time and resources into this job than we’d expected to do for what was supposed to be, more or less, a run-of-the-mill snatch and grab. We were all looking for the big pay day.
From her photos, Nanci was very fair skinned and freckled. Her green eyes and sharp facial features seemed nicely framed by her short cropped hair. Something about her troubled me at the time, but I can’t rightly tell you what it was. Maybe it was something in her information that wasn’t sitting quite right with me or maybe it was something in her eyes in the photos. Perhaps it was in the way she seemed to be carrying herself. Too “in control” for a Balani. And where was the banking breakdown? Every Balani who was in a position to have any coin, regardless of how little, did their business with non-coloured only banks. And those type of banks kept very close records per governmental mandates that were open to any who wanted to investigate their validity.
“Well, she shouldn’t be hard to track down at least.” I mentioned in spite of my reservations. “How many natural redheads can there be here?”
“You mean, other than the one you’re bedding?” Waimund poked jokingly.
I didn’t dignify it with a response.
“Does she have papers?” I asked.
“Yeah. A copy should be in the packets; picked up from the records registrar’s office. She’s a freewoman. Born free, from what I can tell.” Jeruian said.
True enough, they were in the packet. And upon examination, I could see that Jeruian was correct. She’d never seen a plantation, factory or bordello in her life.
Well, that explains the stature…but- “What do you mean ‘from what you can tell’?”
“I couldn’t find any records of either her parent’s capture or birth. Nothing. But, check this out. I dug around and I found two persons of interest who might have been her parents. At least, the circumstances match up. Possible Assamian natives, not slave born. I have records of their individual acquisitions, shipping from the Assamian coast and I have their bills of sale; purchased nearly a year apart by a foundry owner in Hesijua. I also have a request for a return of stolen or missing property from that same forge three years later. The same slaves.”
“Runaways.” Waimund surmised.
“Exactly. The female was found and brought back some two years after the escape and resold to another metal caster some eight hundred miles away.”
“And the father?” Waimund asked.
Jeruian shrugged. “Probably killed.”
“Okay. So?” I asked.
“The span of time that these two were on the run fits if we assume Further was born during that period.” J responded. “Her approximate age matches up. Could be that the mother got pregnant and the two decided to make a break. No paperwork was ever filed for the capture and return of a child so it’s possible that the slave owner never knew about her. It fits that’s why I couldn’t find any paperwork on her other than her autonomy papers.”
“And how, exactly, did an unregistered gump get autonomy paperwork?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jeruian furrow his brow as the word gump crossed my lips. I pretended not to see it. It wasn’t the first time.
“Maybe she slept with the registrar?” Ray proposed. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone decided to get a taste of a white skinned girl. And she wouldn’t be the first one to let someone take it in the hopes of getting or staying free.”
It was all conjecture. But it seemed as probable as anything else. Besides, I knew better than to question Jeruian’s information. He was my teacher, after all. “Well, we should have enough here for her to be a nonissue. It feels solid enough.”
“Good. I’d suggest that you two go about tracking her down and questioning her now. I’ll grab a little sleep and catch up with you afterwards.” J proposed.
“I think we’ll wait until you’re rested to question her.” I countered.
Waimund looked down at the photo, then back at me. “Why wait? I thought you just said that it felt solid. The two of us can handle one little girl.”
“Just a gut feeling, I suppose. I don’t know why, but something’s gnawing at me about this one. I guess she just seems…a bit wrong.”
Waimund looked down at the files again and back at me. “Why?”
I studied the information more closely. But I couldn’t shake that it was more than just a passing feeling. There was something there beyond her questionable history. So I came clean and voiced my concern. “Where are the financials?”
Jeruian shrugged. “Couldn’t pull anything. But it wouldn’t be the first time. People involved with shady dealings tend to try to mask their coin.”
“If they’re smart enough that is.” Waimund added as he started to hug himself for warmth. “Can one of them be that smart? A Balani, I mean? Free or otherwise?”
“I honestly don’t know.” I answered. “But she’s important somehow. More than what we’re seeing.”
“You might be right.” Ray conceded after a moment of silence with a contemplative nod. “The lack of finances is odd. If she’s working for Claire, then she’s getting coin.”
“The more important question is, how did a Balani girl born to run away Assamian slaves become so important and trusted to someone like Katelyn?” I pointed out.
“Maybe they’re fucking too. If what Jeruian said is true and she got herself bedded for some papers, then who’s to say that her tongue hasn’t found its way between Claire’s legs also? She’s not ugly. And stranger things have happened.”
I contemplated Waimund’s words for a moment. But it was a reach and I didn’t buy it. And I said as much.
“I don’t buy it.”
Both of the men stared intently at me for more. But I didn’t have it. And I didn’t want to bury the lead, if I ever really had it with this line of thought in the first place.
“Never mind. The fact of the matter is that I trust the information, I just don’t trust her. I want to, but I can’t. Sorry J. I’ve got to trust my gut a bit here.”
“Fuck it. I don’t care. It’ll get done regardless of how we fucking do it.”
Jeruian nodded at Waimund’s statement. “Fine. If that’s how you both feel about it, then that’s how we’ll do it. I just need to catch twenty winks.” He looked around and tightened the fit of his jacket by resituating his shoulders and tugging on its lapels. “Besides, I’m ready to get inside of someplace warm.”
I looked about myself as well, and breathed deeply the frosty air. All things considered it was a lovely morning despite the chill that hung about us and the uncommon snow that lay on the ground. The suns were warm enough to me. But, then again, Swalii are naturally warmer than most anyway. So I was probably alone in the feeling. The shining frost that coated everything made for a very picture-esc scene. The birds were chirping at the day’s first rays of golden light and the world was quiet.
“I don’t know…it doesn’t seem all that bad out here right now.”
“Easy for you to say, you hot blooded bastard.”
I smiled at J’s comment. “We’ll link up with you for lunch at Rassani Blue.”
“I don’t think that I’m in the mood for pesarattu today.” Waimund said, frowning slightly at the idea of visiting the popular Assamian pub and eatery and feasting on its native cuisines.
“Neither am I really.” I replied pointing at the file pages he held under his huddled arm pit. “But according to the write-ups, Nanci appears to favor going there from time to time. Probably because they’re not as hostile towards Balani and Ma’Jong as most; seeing as how they’re countrymen and all. Maybe we’ll get lucky and she’ll decide to show up.”
Jeruian shrugged and spoke in a sarcastic tone. “I suppose. It would definitely save us some legwork; beating the streets for her.”
My smile widened. “There you go.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Waimund concurred.
“Now that that’s settled, wasn’t it your turn to get the coffee this morning? I purposefully didn’t have any of that ho-hum library brew since you were supposed to get the good java from the delicatessen near your hotel. And I’m dying for a cup.”
“Yes J. Yes it was. And I didn’t disappoint.”
Jeruian smiled so hard at the thought that all the tiredness seemed to lift from his face and he practically beamed. Coffee has that effect on people. I shared the smile with my friend while pointing my thumb in the direction of my vehicle.
Sometimes I really enjoyed my life.
“It’s all in the auto-mobile.” I confirmed.
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Midday was thankfully warmer, though more snow was threatening to fall. Jeruian and I shared a corner table in the Rassani Blue near its flamboyant windows which gave us a commanding view of the immediate area. Waimund, wanting to give us more options and versatility in the case that Further rabbited, opted at the last minute not to join us. He instead camped up the street in a miscellaneous dive some three blocks away whose more modern atmosphere acted as a draw for the younger crowd. He hated the place, but its placement gave him the ability to cut off any possible escape from the opposing end of the street.
As we ate our way through the time from our floor pillow seats, I noticed Jeruian shamelessly drinking in the sights of the numerous dark skinned Malani women who filled the restaurant. Jeruian always had a thing for the desert women, and it showed. He spoke often of their rich, dark hair which they covered with silky headscarfs; the bright bindi which decorated their foreheads; their accents.
Inevitably, I had to nudge him to get his attention back as I observed Nanci Further finally entering the building.
Good. I thought to myself with relief. I was starting to think this was going to be a bust.
She maneuvered through the sporadic patrons, ignoring their questioning gazes. Past the decorative furniture, colorful liquors and local objet d'art that decorated the room she went as she breezed right past the segregated seating areas where someone of her lineage would have been expected to sit. She continued toward a set of stone stairs toward the rear of the establishment which were adorned overhead with a wooden sign reading “to smoking lounge” in stylized lettering.
A large man, a Malani wearing a long, dark coloured, single breasted coat with a high neck stopped her at the cusp of the stairs. I thought for certain that the bouncer was going to brutally toss the cocky girl for all but daring to be so bold as to walk towards him as if her skin wasn’t white. But, to both my and J’s surprise, instead of witnessing a violent confrontation, she whispered something to him and showed him a piece of paper which he read thoroughly while looking back and forth into her face.
Reading…looking.
Reading…looking.
Reading…looking.
Finally, seemingly satisfied, but not happy, he allowed her to pass and continue down the staircase.
“Still think there’s nothing suspicious about this girl?” I asked Jeruian as he sat dumbfounded.
“Unbelievable. Seems like your gut may have been onto something.”
“Now what?” I asked. “How’s your comfort level?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing.”
“Well, if you ask me, there’s no point in stopping now. We’ve got a lead, we follow it.”
“What about Ray?”
“No doubt he saw her enter. He’ll be ready to cut her off when we leave.”
We lingered a few minutes longer, paid our tab and followed her downstairs where our senses were accosted by the smells of all manner of flavoured shisha and incense, which permeated everything around us.
The darkened, smoke filled room that we found ourselves in was several levels underground and was significantly cooler than the rest of the building above. Nearly coat worthy. But a few fires lit around the room in stone braziers near the walls kept the area warm enough and comfortable.
Recessed smoking areas hugged the walls, filled with multi coloured floor pillows of all shapes and sizes. Privacy curtains hung freely from the wide wooden arches that separated the cubbies from the spacious central area where an eloquent bar was situated amongst less private smoking couches. Here, a large number of water pipes were kept on display and thin trenches were cut through the cool stone floor, through which flowed shallow water, further separating the individual booths and couches from each other.
An absolutely wondrous area by all accounts, and I was earnestly shocked as to how a place so nice had come to find itself in a town so small.
After a moment of searching, we spotted Nanci closing the curtain of one of the cubbies. A space she was sharing with a dark skinned man who was not previously known to us. As he spoke to her, I could see what appeared to be the glint of a false tooth coated in silver, and the hand that held open the curtain for Nanci to enter was short a finger.
“Who’s the new guy?” I asked
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Well, whatever his relation to her is, it gave Nanci a free pass into a coloured-only bar and that’s nothing to shake a stick at. Especially in a small town like this one. He’s got to be important. We should tag him.”
He shook his head. “Would love to, but we can’t risk something stupid happening by splitting up to follow both of them when they leave. We either follow Nanci or we follow the new guy. We can’t do both. To dangerous. If we need to circle back to him later, we can always start back here and try to reconstruct his timeline to dig him up.” He motioned his head to something coming up behind me. “We’ve got company.”
I followed Jeruian’s gaze to an approaching malani hostess; a lovely looking woman with pearlescent black eyes that cut through us from underneath a beautiful black silk shayla which flowed into a matching sari. J calmly held up two fingers and pointed towards an area he was claiming as our own; an empty cubby across the room from Nanci’s clandestine meeting. Nodding her understanding, the hostess went to get two water pipes as we took our seats on the rather robust pillows and bided our time.
----------
Three coals worth of smoking and two lassis later, Nanci had still failed to emerge.
“Maybe you were right.” Jeruian said jokingly.
“About?”
“Maybe they’re...” he paused as he made a lewd gesture with his hands.
I snickered. I’d said that earlier in jest, but- “Could be true. Even bad guys need love.”
“Love? Really?” Jeruian asked with a raised eyebrow.
I shrugged. “Or to get their rocks off. Whichever. Besides, some Balani girl meeting a Dwalli man in secret in a smoky lounge behind a privacy curtain? If I was going to bed a gump and I didn’t want to take them home, well, that’s one way I’d do it.”
“Well,” Jeruian said, apparently wishing to gloss over the observation I’d just made, especially considering that I was bedding a Balani girl who I was taking home, “either that or they’re having a very serious talk. Regardless, we should, without a doubt, find out who that is later. I smell multiple bounties here.”
“What I should do without a doubt is order myself a drink.”
“No Sam, you don’t.” Jeruian said.
He and Waimund worried terribly over the drinking that I had taken to, quite heavily I might add, after I’d left Brigid’s care. And they’d long since prevented me from over indulging.
After the second binding, I came to realize that a heavy conscious in concert with my unique affliction of the memory is truly a haunting combination. Being forced to relive my crimes over and over in moments of stillness; waking many nights from the night terrors spawned by these reminiscences...
I’d so often drink or indulge in opiates that I’d lose hours, or even entire days. Before their intervention, a bottle would never be far from my hands nor a needle far from my veins. Anything to help keep the relapses away.
“Really J? I’m three times your elder and I don’t need you riding me right now about drinking.”
“Yes. You’re three times my elder. And you still don’t know how to handle your drink if I don’t make you. We’re not going down this road today. So stop talking about it. Here.” he said pointing at the upright menu on our round table between the two pipes. “Get a masala tea and relax. You’re just a little antsy right now.”
I knew he was right. But I didn’t feel any better about it. For lack of being able to go to a certified psychologist, or the ability to see an illusionist for fear of affecting my mind with too many compounded weaves, I had to simply rely on my friends to talk to me and drive me towards the right path as best they could.
Which basically amounted to a great deal of “tough love”. I didn’t always say it then…but I was grateful for all they did for me.
“Maybe we should just take a chance and move in.” Jeruian suggested to get my mind working on something other than thoughts of alcohol.
“Nah. I don’t like it. I still say that we should wait until she leaves, and corner her outside. Away from people.”
My tea came and went. Another half hour ticked by. We smoked our way through another coal each as we recanted old jobs, talked about what we’d do with the money from this venture once we were done, spoke about what we both did with our time over the past weeks and all other manner of thing under the suns.
Every now and again I’d look around at nothing in particular. A man calling for a drink; the fires dancing about in one of the braziers; a random hostess helping the attendees behind the bar-like area get newly ordered water pipes started…then, I noticed a striking woman and her party gliding into the lounge. A group whose appearance had drawn many of the eyes about the room to them out of surprise and general curiosity. A femme fatale elf leading a duo of her kin.
A she-elf who against all odds of us being in the same place in the world at the same time, I shared a complicated history with.
The woman of my dreams.
----------
On the Subject of Eluvian Beauty
The eluvian by their very nature are, in mass, very reclusive. Few races outside of the Dwalli and the dwarves have ever interacted with them either individually or with their nation-states in general to any real extent. Such is how they preferred to live. They tended to separate themselves and their way of life from outsiders. Their closeness to the natural world has never mixed well with most other race’s desire to conquer and control it as opposed to melding and sharing with it.
And the subsequent air of mystery that surrounds them, that follows such a willful separation, lends to them an undefinable uniqueness that’s hard to put into words. It’s a queerness that aside from their rich cultures and intriguing lineages, tends to draw the interest of many at first blush.
There’s something intangible about their lithe bodies and oversized irises that draws you in and holds you. Something that’s indescribable.
Maybe it’s because their ancestors were so close to the Dįvįnë and the first Drågons. Maybe it’s because their movements are always so delicate and supposedly favored those of the First Daughter.
Or, maybe it’s just the ears.
Who knows? It’s true however that even an elf who’s considered homely by their own people, or even unattractive, still manages to garner favorable attention from those of other races. It’s the type of eye-catching attention that can sometimes be particularly bothersome. Understandably so. (Another reason that they tend to stay out of the larger public eye.) Not to mention those among the eluvian who are actually considered to be beautiful amongst their kind.
And this particular sunset elf, this woman who I’d once known and been close to many moons prior; this woman who’d caught my eyes through the dim lighting of the lounge was definitely considered beautiful among her kind.
----------
The she-elf’s heavy hips swung so tantalizingly as she walked towards her table that even the smoke that hung lazily in the air seemed drawn to their movements; content to waft sensuously around them. And my eyes found themselves dancing to the beat of their sway.
“Sam!? Are you listening to me?”
“What?” I asked; startled out of my thoughts. “Sorry. I was…distracted.”
“I miss something?”
“No. Nothing.” I stated hastily, hoping that he wouldn’t notice the elfish group or the attention they were garnering. “What were you saying?”
He stared at me for a long moment. “Hmm.” he eventually said, slightly unconvinced. “I was asking you how it was going for you with that disheveled strip of land you were gifted by Lady Brigid’s acquaintance a couple of years ago.” he continued. “You’ve been so tight lipped about the whole affair that Ray and I’ve been wondering if you hadn’t given up on it.”
“Is that a fact?” I queried.
“It is.”
“So?” I asked, still overwhelmingly distracted.
“And so, if I’m being honest, we’ve mostly just been…curious as to what it is that you’ve been funneling all of your coin into.”
“You mean you’ve been nosey.”
“Potato, potahto.” He waved me off. “Look, you don’t spend much time outside of that apartment of yours…which is pretty sparse. Minimalist in the extreme actually. Not your style. And outside of work and the random meet up with one of us, the only time you ever leave for any real stretch is to travel to this mystery property. You used to talk about it, but you’ve spoken of it less and less. You never tell us anything about it anymore. You can’t really blame us for being-”
“Nosey.” I smiled. “I suppose not.”
“Didn’t you say once that there was some type of old sprawling manor or estate there? Or some such?”
I paused for a moment, wondering what to say, slowly becoming annoyed with his yammering. “I wouldn’t really call it an estate, exactly.” I didn’t want to dig into it. not right now. My mind wasn’t on it. It was focused on the she-elf . I waved the question off; my eyes searching once more for the elven woman who’d caught them. “Anyway, it goes as well as it can go, I suppose.” I stated almost absentmindedly. “I never bring it up because there’s nothing to bring up. Besides, at this point, it’s little more than a coinage pit. There’s so much involved and so many renovations needed around the lands and the house proper that it will probably be years before it’s fully livable. Bah. It doesn’t matter.”
“You’re not fooling anyone.” he stated after staring at me for a moment. “It matters. It all matters. You love the place more than you’re willing to let on. You’ve loved it since Brigid showed it to you. Waymond and I could both see it in you.”
I shrugged. “Maybe. It has a history behind it that I’m looking into. Interesting stuff. Impossibly old.”
“I can imagine. It was presided over by one of the first Drågons after all.”
“It does admittedly have promise. The land’s beautiful. The primary structure’s still mostly sound, or at least, no more of it will collapse right now. Given enough time, it could probably be something again.”
“Time…and a lot more coin by the sound of it.”
“True.”
“Well, goodness knows that between what you were supposedly able to put away from your former life and what we make these days, you should at least have the ability to get your groundwork done. Or, so I’d imagine at least.”
“I suppose.” I said as my eyes once again got caught up in the sunset elf and her party. “It’ll all be worth it eventually…”
“What’s that? I didn’t catch that last bit.”
I failed to answer.
“Sam?”
Spurred into backing out of his apparent tunnel vision and looking around the room at the lack of a response from me, it wasn’t long before he’d realized that he’d not noticed the shift in the bar’s energy and spied the object of the entire room’s ogling. “What is it that has everyone so- What in the name of Brŭmal? That can’t be possible. Is that-?”
“You-Know-Who.” I whispered. Almost as if she were a dream so fragile that the mere mention of her presence aloud might cause her to vanish.
J seemed to share that belief as he said nothing further for a long moment; content to simply examine the small group intently. Unable to process the sheer unlikeliness of seeing her again. Especially since she’d been so recently on my mind.
“Traveling light on the entourage.” I noted. “And visibly quiet I see; I don’t think I can remember seeing her hair…undecorated. But, then again, she said once that she liked blending in when she was out and about.”
Jeruian squinted his eyes at me; not unlike a disapproving father. “I haven’t the slightest idea what’s running around in your head,” he stated strongly after the group found themselves some seats; leaving the curtain open in their cubby so that they could take in the sights and sounds about them. “but I can guess. And we don’t have time for…this right now. Whatever this is.”
I gave him a stern glance. “What are you on about?”
“You know good-and-well-” He sighed audibly. “I know you want to re-connect with Ñä’.”
“What?” I asked coyly.
“Don’t be childish.” he answered shortly.
I felt my voice drifting against my own will. “Yeah. Yeah. Maybe you’re right.”
The melancholy in my voice must have also slipped into my features because Jeruian suddenly adopted a motherly tone.
“You ok?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Five years is a long time.”
“Not long enough.” I answered. A little too quickly.
“Apparently. Look, whatever you’re thinking about doing, and you are thinking about doing something, it’s the wrong thing and this is damn certain the wrong time. We’re on a job. A job that by your own admission feels as crooked as a country fence. A job that you asked us to be a part of due to overwhelming concern on your part.
“Now I know you pretty well. We both do. And Waimund and I rib you about it from time to time, but we haven’t had the heart to really tell you that your bed hopping, your lack of focus in recent years and this whole thing with Jannett-”
“What about my thing with Jannett?” I asked as I stared daggers into him; becoming keenly aware of my rising anger.”
“Look,” he stated as he raised his hands in peace. “I’m only saying this as a friend. I know that you’ve been ‘chasing the drågon’ ever since you and Ñä’-”
“And you can stop right there. You don’t know me or the situation between me and Ñä’ well enough to open the door that you’re fiddling with.”
“You’re right. I don’t know. But like I told you this morning, I suspect. I’m just saying. It’s bad enough that you decided to let yourself get involved with a lead in our hunt for Claire. You’re grown. That was your choice. A bad choice. But your choice nonetheless. And we ate that decision. But we don’t need this to get any more complicated than what it is. And running into Ñä’ right now is going to do exactly that.
“I need you to concentrate less on Ñä’. Stay focused on Further. I know that you haven’t seen her in a long time, and that for whatever did or didn’t happen between you two, you miss her. I liked her too. And I won’t deny that seeing her here is nearly providential. But you’re looking down a road you’ve already traveled once and we both know that it would have cost you more than you could pay.”
I couldn’t really fight his logic. And I couldn’t find any words to try. My silence was speaking volumes. Both to him and to myself.
“And let’s play Lumå’įl’s advocate for a moment.” he continued. “What if you could open things back up with her? How do you think Jannett would take it to know that she was never more than a place holder? How much could she expose us to Claire if you broke her like that right now? Do you really want that? I don’t fancy the idea of fighting an Askew even when the odds are in our favor. Let alone one who would see us coming!”
“You’re assuming that a gump would presume to think that she could be anything more to me than what she already is. She knows the score. She was born knowing it.”
“Does she?” he challenged. “I know you don’t believe that. And she seems to be more invested in you than that to me. Regardless, this just isn’t-”
“This conversation is over J. You can stop.”
There was a finality in my voice that, in retrospect, I didn’t realize was there at the time. And Jeruian didn’t press it any further. He merely shook his head in defeat and breathed out a long dissatisfied grunt as I continued to stare at the table of midnight skinned elves.
“I have to do this. Right?” I half asked to myself while already knowing the answer.
“What? No. No Sam. NO!”
I think Jeruian continued on to say something else to me in the moments that followed, but I didn’t catch it. I’d tuned out everything around me and allowed myself to become completely enthralled by my memories of Ñä’. And as I continued to stare at her; the way she played with her hair, the way she smiled and laughed as she talked, I found that I was simply compelled to talk to her again. There was no fighting it. And my eyes washed over her waifish, dark skinned frame in preparation.
Despite her relative elvish thinness, Ñä’Kimuli had always been surprisingly thicc and fit. Even among her sunset kin who were all renown for their distinctly wider hips and fuller lips than the other eluvian races.
The all covering high neck tunic-like sweater she wore did little to hide the fact that her arms were well defined and leanly muscled; almost causing one to overlook the inherent beauty of the overall form-complementing outfit which was stunningly detailed in sunset fashion. That is to say that it was heavily embroidered. Almost to a fault.
Her tunic fell mid-thigh over a pair of black embroidered pants which, like her sweater, struggled to hide the fine musculature of her hearty legs. The ensemble was highlighted at the waist by what appeared to be a thin metal belt that hung elegantly upon her full hips; Elvish steel. I remembered that it had always been a favorite decoration of hers. An accessory that, for as long as I’d known her, she’d always worn everywhere.
The more things change, the more they stay the same.
What appeared to be a thick band of imperial purple rope held down the thick locked up tresses on top of her head. Behind the rope, her kinky steel gray hair further exploded into a large sphere-ish ball of glorious intricately interconnected locs. From underneath that surging mane, her long ears jingled with silver earrings which glittered in the light of the candles placed randomly about the cubby as she turned several times to the attendant who would periodically approach her table, speak, and then be turned away with a polite shake of the elf’s head.
“Sam! Are you listening to me at all?”
I was snapped out of my daze. “Off and on.” I answered. “Look, I understand what you’re saying. I really do. But I need you to know that, right now, I couldn’t possibly care less. I can’t let an opportunity like this pass me by. I just can’t. Besides, we’ve already been here almost two hours. What’s another few minutes?”
“We have to deal with Further!”
I glanced to Further’s cubby, then back to Ñä’. “Further doesn’t seem to be going anywhere for the moment. And I need to do this. I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t try.”
After staring back and forth at length between me and Further’s cubby, he said- “Fine then. Since you seem to be intent on ignoring what I’m saying and pursuing this foolishness, you might as well get on with it. Maybe you’ll be able to finally get her out of your system after she shoots you down. If for no other reason than so that you focus on your job and being in the present.
“If we’re lucky, she’s bonded by now. Or betrothed. That way your libido won’t be able to screw us all. It’s been quite a while since we’ve seen her after all.”
“We don’t know any of that. Can you see their nodas? The room is too dim and smoky for me to fully make them out.”
“You mean to tell me that eye of yours can’t see it?” he asked as he stared at me. I knew he could see the green glow of the information that was dancing in my irises.
I grunted at my friend’s mockery. “My prosthetic isn’t telephoto or some other crazy nonsense. No light enhancement. No spectrum shifting. It’s just an eye. It allows me to see. Nothing more. Nothing less. I’m not a machine. And my Amalgamate isn’t fucking magickal. Regardless of its quality or creation. Being upgraded to function more like its militarized cousins makes it a bit more…impressive in its capabilities than the norm, but it still does little more than feed information to my brain in situations like this under fair conditions. Raw data. That’s it.
“Huh. Well, that feels like a waste.” he stated with much disappointment. “For some reason I always thought it did…more.” Jeruian looked intently in the women’s direction; only minimally committed to aiding me on my course of action, seemingly resigned to his fate. Or he was just interested in watching me fail miserably. “I can’t see Ñä’s. It may be on the other side of her head. But the others look, well, the one closest to us looks gray. The other might be yellow.”
He sighed with practiced deliberance.
“Seriously.” he reiterated in a more assertive tone as he glanced back and forth between me and Nanci’s still covered cubby. “We really, really don’t have the time for this. Besides…” I glanced at him as he paused thoughtfully. “…Look, I’ve grown to love you man, but honestly, Ñä’ is a higher class of woman than what you deserve. She merits better and quite frankly I don’t think she should ever share her time with you again.”
I couldn’t help but think for a moment that he was absolutely right. We didn’t have the time. She could’ve belonged to someone else. And she probably did deserve someone better than I. But then I thought about our time together. I remembered what it was like to be with her. To feel her. To have her want me…
It all served to steel my purpose.
“You’re wrong Jeruian. First, Nanci isn’t going anywhere, and if she does that’s why we have the radios.”
“We do. Ray doesn’t.”
“Not my fault that he’s religiously averse to tech. But he’s a big boy. He’ll catch on when he sees us leave. Secondly, don’t bring up Jannett again. I have her under control.”
“Not as much as you think. But fine.”
“I appreciate your honesty. I do. And you’re right about her being too good for me. I know you are. But there’s something about her. Always has been. Something that draws me. Living in Hisra, I’ve never been able to find a good enough reason to go and make the pilgrimage all the way to Koso. No reason to risk the journey just to be turned away. But having her here? Now? So close to me? I can’t help myself.”
“Plainly. Goddess knows her name always finds a way to fall from your lips every few months.”
“If I’m wrong, then I’ll close the door on this chapter of my life. You have my word. Besides, what are the chances I’d see her again now? This can’t be coincidental. And what are the chances I’ll have another opportunity like this to talk to her?”
“If you say so.”
“I’ll ask that you excuse me now J. I have an old acquaintance to talk to. Signal me if Nanci moves.”
He shook his head sadly as I stood. I suppose, in retrospect, he figured that in my particular case, fighting to chase after a dream was a slightly better vice to indulge in than habitually drowning myself in intoxicants. “Just make certain she’s not tied up with someone before you make an utter fool of yourself over there. Or, even worse, succeed in your machinations. And don’t play with her if you want her. She was a good person and a good friend when we dealt with her before. You’re single, I guess. But if she’s not, I won’t allow you to push her to adultery.”
Jeruian was a believer in the Goddess. Not necessarily overly devout or zealous, or even a consistent abbey-goer, but a firm believer in the teachings of the covenant. He seemed to have been willing, to give me this second chance at redemption because I imagine, like Lady Brigid, he saw more in me than I saw in myself. But he was serious. He’d not easily allow me to slip back into the dark or bloody vices of my old life. Or drag others down into them.
“Not to worry.” I assuaged him. “I’ve got this. If she tells me to leave her be, then I will. And I’m not going to endanger you or Ray.”
“Too late to worry about that. You already have.” he tried to whisper to himself.
“By-the-way, when you die of embarrassment over there, you can go see the bar tender and pay our tab.”
“I’m sorry?” I asked coyly as I walked away; stepping over one of the room’s aesthetic water-filled trenches as I did, pretending to not understand the sly comment as I drifted away.
Jeruian waved me on. “You heard me. And I’m drinking the rest of your masala tea while you’re gone!” he called after me.
“Don’t touch my tea!”